


Compos Mentis

by Traviosita9124



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, fitz coming to awareness, post 4x17, short fic, vague references to sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 00:55:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10628805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traviosita9124/pseuds/Traviosita9124
Summary: Compos Mentis - adj. - having full control of one's mind; sane





	

It started as an inkling, a vague itch at the back of his brain as he looked at the picture. 

 

At first, Fitz told himself it was nothing. The woman was beautiful, true, but not necessarily striking. In the photos he’d found, she struck him as being the girl-next-door: attractive, but unassuming. She certainly had a nice smile, particularly for an ID photo, and if Fitz found his own lips curling upward the longer he stared at her, what of it? It was a human reflex. Nothing more. 

 

Still, the more work he put into finding her for Ophelia, the more persistent the itch became. Even worse, it was accompanied by a tugging in his gut, an insistence that Jemma Anne Simmons is known to him, and  _ has _ been known to him for a long time.

 

It wasn’t possible. He had never seen that woman in his life. Still… still, images drifted across his brain, too ethereal to be an actual memory but too solid to be ignored. He saw her standing in the distance, hair whipping around her face; chattering away as she worked in a laboratory; putting herself in the line of fire time and again; kissing him senseless. 

 

No matter the vision, it stirred things in him - fear, hope, passion - that he hadn’t felt in a long time. It left Fitz wondering if he’d ever felt them at all. 

 

But it wasn’t until Fitz saw her in the flesh that it struck him. 

 

He knew how she took her tea, that her secret vice was chocolate peanut butter ice cream despite being a professed health food fanatic, and that she was a terrible liar. She hummed to herself when her work was going well and nibbled on her lower lip when it wasn’t. She had a penchant for stealing jumpers -  _ his jumpers _ \- when she got cold. 

 

But that was only scratching the surface of what he knew about Jemma Simmons.  

 

Fitz knew the curve of her lips and how they fit against his own. He knew the feeling of her fingers in his hair and her voice in his ear goading him on. He knew every constellation of freckles that dotted her skin; he even had favorites. He knew how soft the skin of her inner thighs felt against his ribs; knew the dark, musky taste of her on his tongue as she let pleasure overcome her; knew the feeling of her ribs lifting and falling against his own as she struggled to regain her breath, heart beating wildly in time with his own. 

 

It was written plainly on her face that Jemma knew him just as intimately, and Fitz felt something facture within him in response. His entire life was a lie, but oddly enough it was only his Hydra training that kept him from giving himself away and being executed on the spot. 

 

Steeling himself, he fired in her direction, praying with every pull of the trigger that no one would actually strike her. He could hear Ophelia -  _ Aida _ , his other self quickly corrected - ordering to pursue the subversives. Fitz did as he was told, his face the same steely mask of determination his men were used to seeing; however, little did they know there was only one thing on his mind. 

 

_ Protect Jemma _ . 

**Author's Note:**

> I very much want to believe that something in Fitz was jarred by seeing Jemma, and that he'll come into his own bit by bit from here on out. I am probably entirely off base, so I decided to get this out there before "No Regrets" airs and ruins any chance of this being plausible.


End file.
